


Kent Buy Me Love or "Those Kent Boys"

by PaulKeatingOfficial



Category: Smallville
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Hair Pulling, Infidelity, Lionel is the worst and I love him, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Magical Artifacts, Porn with some plot, lots of flannel, mild choking, sex over a dangerous power tool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulKeatingOfficial/pseuds/PaulKeatingOfficial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lionel Luthor finds a magical artefact and people keep getting all sexual with him because of it. Could be considered Dub-Con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kent the Younger

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged it as underage but I don't personally think of it like that and I don't say anything explicitly in the text about it.

Lionel Luthor hadn’t been feeling himself all morning.

Yesterday he’d fainted down at the caves in the middle of examining a newly excavated artefact. It had been quite the find, all shiny and round, and of course engraved with the elusive symbols he’d been trying so hard to decode. In his excitement he’d picked it up without the aid of the metallic tongs provided and the moment he’d touched it he’d felt ill. Apparently he had then collapsed because the next thing he knew he was waking up in a cool sweat with the satiny sheets of his own bed underneath him.

Light streamed through the high windows and glowed red behind his eyelids. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he squinted into the morning sun. He felt something poking in his palm and when he looked down he saw his fist was still clenched around the artefact. Knotting his eyebrows in thought he slipped the artefact into the pocket of his silk dressing gown and stood up. 

The house was quiet as he wandered through it. Lex was in Metropolis on business which gave Lionel the run of the place, without all the questions and bothersome investigations that usually dogged his steps. He padded into the dining room, the rich carpet making no noise against his soft cotton socks. A place was set at the head of the table and he took a small vindictive joy from sitting in Lex’s regular spot.

He ruminated quietly for a few moments, ignoring Marie as she bustled into the room with a tray full of food. He started when he felt her hand on his shoulder but gathered himself quickly. He turned his head to answer whatever question had prompted the contact but all he saw was her heavily lidded gaze upon him. He was taken aback and his brain reminded him of the fact that he was clothed only in socks, dressing gown and boxer shorts.  
In an unusual show of self-consciousness Lionel made to cover himself more fully with the dressing gown but was stopped as Marie’s mouth swooped down upon his with considerable force. Her hand on his shoulder tightened and her other hand travelled down his dressing gown, roughly brushing over his bare chest on her way down to his groin. Ordinarily unflappable Lionel Luthor was having a problem processing what was happening. He broke away from her mouth to ask her at the exact moment her fingers snuck under his waistband. He gasped and inadvertently pushed his pelvis up to meet her fingers. She’d never shown any sort of sexual interest in him before but, now that she was, Lionel was more than happy to let her have her way. She lightly brushed his cock with the back of her fingernails before letting her fingers wrap around his warm skin. He moaned as she massaged his cock and in seconds he was completely stiff. Marie bent her head to kiss Lionel’s neck and he lent back, giving her ample room to continue stroking his cock and tongue his neck and chest.

A thoughtful smile moved across his face and he scratched his beard. Idly he placed a hand to Marie’s back and lowered her to her knees. She moved smoothly and didn’t stop either of her actions. Lionel reached across to the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.  
He sipped the juice as Marie’s increased her tempo, her mouth moved lower to suck at the tender skin around his groin. Her lips traced the base of his cock as her fingers rolled and pumped. Sharp waves of pleasure hit him and his entire pelvis began aching for want of a release.  
Lionel put his hand on the back of Marie’s head, threading his fingers through her hair. He came suddenly, his hand keeping Marie's head from hitting the table’s edge as his hips bucked. Slowly he released her and she rocked back on her heels.  
He gently removed her hands from his body and tucked himself back into his boxers. She blinked lazily and then frowned inquisitively up at him.

“That will be all Marie, thank you.”

Marie left, throwing confused glances back at him as she turned and walked out. Suddenly ravenous, Lionel moved his chair closer and began to eat, carving into his pancakes and drowning them with syrup.

After breakfast Lionel was filled with restless energy and was unsure of how to use it. He didn’t like this lack of direction at all. He was also still trying to puzzle out what had happened that morning. He couldn’t get Marie’s confused face out of his head. A scientific mind like Lionel’s could not have missed the way she had snapped out of whatever had gotten into her, right after she had taken her hand off of him. Now it was up to him to figure out what had gotten in to her in the first place.  
He leapt the stairs two at a time as he went back to his bedroom. Slipping out of his dressing gown he heard something hard fall and bounce on the wooden floor. He looked down and saw the artefact sitting silently on the floorboards. He examined it, but the symbols remained impassive as ever.

Lionel was on the phone to his doctor when his shaven headed security guard walked into the office. He held up one finger and continued listening to his doctor’s voice. He told him to rest and hydrate and said nothing Lionel didn’t already know. After hanging up, Lionel swung his chair around to look at Boris, who was standing sturdily on the plush carpet.  
He’d clearly come in for the daily briefing Lex insisted on having. Lionel had his own spies that informed on everything that happened outside the mansion and in, so he didn’t really need the briefing from Boris. On the other hand he didn’t need to pass up a recruiting opportunity when one presented itself. He launched himself from the chair and strode over, intending to give Boris a friendly clap on the shoulder. However, the moment he touched the fabric of Boris’ suit a burning thrill ran through him. Boris obviously felt it too.  
Lionel found himself swept into a bone-crushing embrace and a forceful kiss. Boris’ lips were far softer than they appeared but his stubble made the experience very different from kissing Marie. It made Lionel think of his younger days and an image of Jonathan Kent forced its way into his head. Lionel let himself be kissed for a minute before extricating himself. Boris’ grip was monstrously tight but he managed to push himself away.  
Boris swayed for a moment, looking at Lionel with wide eyes.

‘Sir I…I…um”

From the corner of his eye Lionel saw a figure standing in the doorway.

“Thank you Boris, you may leave.”

Boris left quickly, pushing past a stunned looking Clark Kent who was trying to unsubtly back away from the threshold. Lionel smiled at the boy, playing the same role he had been playing for years; misunderstood, charitable businessman and father. Every time he had visited Lex in Smallville he had had an altercation with Clark Kent. Kent had a way of just walking into the mansion as if he felt right at home there, which he suspected had a lot to do with Lex’s fondness for the boy. Of course Lionel’s own interest in the Kents had increased their rate of meeting substantially, despite Jonathan trying his very best to keep him away from the family. Lionel smiled when he thought about Jonathan Kent’s distaste for him, even as his eyes shrewdly took in the awkwardly flustered Clark. He knew so many things about Jonathan that could destroy his reputation, he had pictures too, and he felt a little thrill just thinking about it.  
Lionel invited Clark to sit down in front of the large, wooden desk. He could feel the artefact burning in his jacket pocket, he also noticed that he was breathing a little heavier than normal. He would have to keep that little artefact from Clark, things from the caves tended to go missing when Clark Kent was involved.

“I’m sorry sir, I thought Lex was here.”

“Oh no Lex left for Metropolis several days ago, didn’t he tell you?”

Clark's face fell at that and Lionel made a note of it.

“What was it you wanted to tell him?” Lionel sat down in Lex’s chair and tented his fingers. The artefact began to hum slightly.

Clark looked very uncomfortable at the question and stilled, clearly thinking of some excuse. Lionel took no offence at this. Lex had met someone who wouldn’t disclose his interests to his father, that was just common sense. Clark began to explain but the story was undoubtedly made up and Lionel wasn’t listening anyway. The artefact was burning hotter in his pocket, uncomfortably so. He tried to pay attention to Clark’s words whilst burying his fingers into his pocket. The stone repelled his touch and would not let him remove it. He blinked feverishly and his gaze was inexplicably drawn to Clark’s red lips as the boy rolled out his fabricated explanation.  
Without thinking Lionel reached a hand across to Clark. The boy, startled, made to move away but Lionel’s fingers brushed his wrist. Clark’s eyes snapped to Lionel and suddenly he was around the desk and in front of Lionel before Lionel could blink. Lionel couldn’t figure out what was happening; Clark moved faster than was possible. Lionel put it down to the artefact messing with his sense of time. It was certainly messing with his eyesight, with the room swaying and objects becoming fuzzy. Only Clark’s face was clear, his wet lips hovering over Lionel’s lap as he knelt on the floorboards.  
He reached up and tore Lionel’s trousers from the waist, they came clean off at Clark’s touch and Lionel shook his head, trying to clear it.

Suddenly everything came into sharp focus, coinciding with Clark dipping his head and taking Lionel’s cock into his mouth. Lionel widened his eyes and his breath hitched. He looked down and saw Clark looking right back up at him. The sight of him on his knees, with his big blue eyes looking up to Lionel, and Lionel’s cock in his mouth, was almost too much. Lionel groaned and grabbed a fistful of Clark’s black hair.  
Clark’s head dipped and his tongue slid wetly over the head of Lionel’s cock, stopping at the tip and swirling in small circles. The feeling was so concentrated that Lionel unconsciously pushed his hips forward. Clark responded by taking him in as far down his throat as he could. It was an impressive depth and Lionel could do nothing but tighten his grip on Clark’s hair as the boy gagged and stayed for a few seconds before pulling up again. Lionel felt cold as the outside air mixed with the wetness on his cock and instinctively he pulled Clark back down. Clark took to it without hesitation, bobbing up and down, the warmth of his mouth furnace-like to Lionel’s heightened sensitivity.

Occasionally Clark would lift his head and drag his mouth down the side of Lionel’s cock down to the base, his tongue making messy swirling motions. Every time he did this Lionel would come so close to coming he could barely stand it. It was a surprise he had lasted this long, his entire lower region had tightened in anticipation and every stroke Clark made seemed like it would be the one that undid him.  
Suddenly Clark’s hands were at Lionel’s hips and Lionel felt himself be jerked upwards with considerable force.  
Now he was standing and he had to hunch over and brace himself with one hand on the desk as the force of Clark’s motions increased their speed and strength. Lionel could do nothing but hold onto Clark’s hair with one hand and his desk with other to stop himself from falling. Clark withdrew his head and scratched his tongue harshly against the head of Lionel’s cock. That was it, with that final touch the anticipation building up in him released along with a rush of endorphins. He came as Clark lifted his face to look at him. Lionel could barely breathe at the sight of his cum glistening over Clark’s mouth and cheek.  
All he wanted to do now was fall back onto his chair and not get up again. Instead, he reached over to the box of tissues on the desk and, gently, he cleaned Clark’s supplicant face. Then, careful not to break physical contact, Lionel led him back to the opposite side of the desk. Keeping his hand on Clark’s wrist Lionel sat back in his seat and hid his naked lower half. There was nothing else to do, his trousers were ripped beyond repair.

Once he assured himself that he was covered, he let go of Clark’s wrist. Clark blinked several times as if trying to remember where he was, licking his lips as he did so.

“Sorry, what do you say sir?”

Clark was looking at him with a strange expression and Lionel found himself unable to look him in the eye.

“Nothing of importance Clark.”

He smiled pleasantly.

“I’m sorry to have kept you so long. I won’t make you listen to an old man anymore.”

Clark chuckled politely and rose to leave, casting one inquisitive look back at Lionel before shaking his head and striding out the door.


	2. Kent the Elder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lionel's encounter with Clark leaves him with questions, and he decides to pay a visit to Kent farm to get to the bottom of it. What he finds there is a very angry and stubborn Jonathan Kent and some very unresolved feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucked about with the history a bit because I'm thinking of doing a prequel.

In the hours that followed his encounter with Clark, Lionel devoted his time to experimenting with the artefact. He placed it at different points around the office, moving it further from, and closer to, his body. In doing so he managed to determine that physical contact was the key to its power. He examined it underneath his desk lamp and painstakingly recorded the symbols etched on to its glimmering surface. 

The artefact had cooled dramatically since he’d been with Clark. During this experimentation, however, Lionel found that if he held it for too long he would begin to get hot and bothered again, even when there was no-one else in sight. 

As the day wore on, the sun rose higher in the sky and Lex’s office filled with light. Lionel finally tore himself away from the artefact and swivelled in his seat to let the warmth play over his face. He closed his eyes and let out a small sigh, feeling at once energised and very old. 

When he opened his eyes it took them a little while to adjust to the office again. Through the red sun spots dancing in his field of vision, Lionel spotted a heap of fabric on the floor near the desk. He blinked rapidly to clear his sight and picked the fabric up. 

It turned out to be the trousers the Clark had ripped off of him that morning. He had changed his suit hours ago but must have overlooked the crumpled remains of his former leg wear. 

That was unlike him. 

Lionel ran a thumb over one of the rips in the smooth material and found a hard layer of mesh beneath the silky exterior. It was there to prevent knife, and small-arms, attacks and was incorporated into nearly all of his suits. It should have been impossible to tear barehanded, and yet there it lay in Lionel’s hands, torn to pieces. The memory of Clark tearing them off as if they were nothing ran in his mind, and a spark of anticipation ignited itself in his chest. 

This was exactly the type of anomaly he had been waiting for, although he couldn’t exactly have predicted how he would find it, but he couldn’t afford to get over-excited. It wouldn’t do to let emotions play a part in his plans; they only ever complicated matters. He quickly tempered his anticipation and put himself into a forced calm, slipping easily into an emotionless state. 

Lionel gripped the material with both hands, pulling as hard as could. He felt the muscles in his back and shoulders tighten, and quickly strain. The rip didn’t widen any further despite his efforts. Quickly he plucked a pair of scissors from the desk and attempted to slice through the material. Twenty seconds later he had a pair of broken scissors. 

That was it then. The trouser mesh really was as tough as it should be, and Clark’s destruction of it really was extraordinary. Although Lionel very rarely allowed himself the pleasure, this occasion definitely warranted a visit to the Kent farm. 

 

The artefact burned against his thigh as he stretched out on the Porsche’s smooth leather interior.  He thumbed the artefact absentmindedly as his chauffeur climbed out of the car to open the Kent’s long farm gate, yet he was hard pressed to remember when exactly he had put it back into his pocket. He found himself beginning to get aroused and quickly let go of the artefact. However, he could still feel a tingling in his lap when the car slowly began to roll towards the farmhouse. 

It was exceedingly hot outside of the car. The dark material of Lionel’s suit soaked up the scorching heat and made him very uncomfortable. It was however, a small price to pay compared to the security of knowing that he cut such a striking and important figure. 

A Luthor does not compromise on fashion.  

The farmhouse itself was a quaint, rustic place that always frustrated Lionel. He couldn’t fathom how someone could live in a place so small and work a farm so large and tiresome without striving to better their situation significantly. He would never understand Jonathan’s reluctance to accept his land deal, and he found Martha’s refusal to give in to her ambition almost personally offensive. The Kents lived in world away from him, yet he was inevitably drawn to them time and time again.  

Lex had apparently succumbed to the same draw, judging by how hard he strived to keep Lionel away from them. That thought made his being there a forbidden thrill, made even more exciting by the anticipation of Jonathan’s reaction.  

Lionel toyed with the idea of heading directly to the front door of the farmhouse, where Martha would no doubt greet him with a polite, if slightly forced, smile. It would be a nice little power play for him; to show them that even their home turf wasn’t safe ground anymore. But he feared seeing Martha would distract him from his purpose and instead headed toward the clearly occupied barn.

There was a high pitched whining coming from inside, the unpleasant grinding of power tools. Lionel gritted his teeth against it and pressed on because he thought it very likely that it would be Jonathan in that barn. 

As he rounded the corner he saw that he was right and what was more, Jonathan was alone. 

Lionel hadn't spoken with him in a long while. Of course, since Jonathan loathed him so very much, the man didn’t exactly seek out opportunities to meet him. That was what was going to make this interrogation about Clark that much sweeter. There was nothing better than squeezing information out of someone who despised everything about you. Someone who wanted nothing more than to refuse to yield to your demands but was forced to by your hand in their affairs.  

It was the simple things that Lionel treasured. 

Jonathan was clad in a red flannel button-down loosely worn over a dirty grey t-shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he had thick beige gloves covering his hands. He was running a long plank of wood straight through a table-mounted circular saw, sparks kicking up all around him. Lionel could see that he had safety goggles pushed into his shaggy blonde curls and his rugged face was covered in dirt and sweat, his jeans caked with dried mud. 

He was utterly filthy and Lionel’s arousal was immediate, the artefact was burning like fire at his thigh. His cock twitched as he watched Jonathan’s strong, tanned arms brace against the wood and push it easily through the saw. There was a pile of unsliced wood next to him, clearly he still had awhile to go. 

Lionel found a chair near the wall behind Jonathan and slipped his jacket onto the back of it. Lionel couldn’t help but smile as he made himself at home in the barn. He sat down and crossed his legs, trying to curb his imminent erection. He leant back on the chair and began to admire Jonathan’s ass in his filthy jeans. 

Lionel had deliberately not worn a tie for this trip because with his collar open, and his sleek waistcoat tightly covering his slim body, he knew he looked fantastic. He smirked his customary condescending smirk and waited for Jonathan to turn around.  

Jonathan had been oblivious to the slow ritual happening behind him but he apparently sensed something was wrong, he turned off the saw and froze. He snapped around quickly, gaze darting left and right until he settled on Lionel and started to make sense of what he was seeing. 

His whole body straightened and his mouth fashioned into a hard line. He took his gloves off slowly and brushed the dirt from his hands. He was clearly simmering with rage and only barely keeping himself together. He took off his safety glasses and tossed them carelessly on the table behind him. Then he took a deep breath and turned his furious eyes on Lionel. 

The artefact began to softly vibrate.

 

“Just what do you think you’re doing on my farm Luthor?” Jonathan spat the question out. “Is owning the rest of the goddamn town not enough for you?” His small-town, country accent was endlessly endearing to Lionel.

 

Lionel resisted the urge to stand and meet him, and answered with practiced coolness “Believe me, Mr Kent, I had no intention of coming here today to _buy_ your farm.” he paused and glanced dismissively around the barn “Although there is no doubt in my mind that you could very much use the money, especially now that Martha is no longer working.” 

 

He left the words _for me_ off the end of his sentence, knowing that Jonathan would fill it in for him. He also made no attempt to sound sympathetic, like the way he would have with Clark. He and Jonathan had known each other for too many years now and this sort of below the belt talk was old hat for them. 

Jonathan tilted his head to the side and looked away, fists and jaw clenched as though he was trying to restrain himself from hurting Lionel. He had apparently forgotten how much his anger was a turn on and the unintended side effect of his rage was to intensify Lionel’s already significant arousal. The artefact was a constant buzzing at his thigh now, and it was sending waves of stimulation right to his penis. 

 

“I believe I have made it very clear to you that I don’t want you anywhere near me, or my family.” Jonathan’s statement brooked no argument, and his expression was stern. “I’ll ask you to leave now.” He gestured forcefully to the open door of the barn. 

 

Lionel adjusted his seat and smoothed his waistcoat over his taut chest. His actions were deliberately slow, intended to rile Jonathan even further, but inside he was anything but calm. He couldn’t stop glancing at Jonathan’s lips as he was talking and he even had to shut his eyes for a second before answering. 

 When he opened them again, he arranged his face into the picture of ironic innocence. “I would honour your wishes Jonathan,” he saw a flinch of irritation as Lionel said his name “that is, if I thought I could keep your family away from _me.”_ Jonathan rolled his eyes as Lionel continued. “The fact of the matter is that your boy just can’t seem to get enough of the Luthors. He was up at the mansion only earlier today. We had ourselves a rather illuminating exchange.” Lionel bit his lip to stop himself from snickering at the understatement.

 

“If I thought I could keep Clark away from your family I would. But for some reason, god knows why, he trusts your son” Jonathan moved closer, speaking through clenched teeth. “I’ve already done the best I can to steer him away from the Luthors, so if you’re here to try and get _me_ to keep him away from Lex then you’re wasting your time.”

 

Lionel desperately wanted to tell Jonathan the real reason Clark spent so much time with Lex. Their mutual romantic affection was so blindingly obvious that it was laughable. And the fact that Jonathan clearly didn’t know about it was absurd. 

In that moment Lionel so badly wanted to tell him, and to compare them to the way _they_ used to be, to remind him of that other time an earnest farm boy fell for an emotionally aloof billionaire. 

That was back in the long gone days when young entrepreneur Lionel Luthor had been introduced to Jonathan Kent, handsome captain of the football team, and had spent a summer introducing him to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Not to mention fucking him in every hotel room from Kansas to New York. 

 But that was a card he could keep in his hand for now. He licked his bottom lip quickly before speaking again, enjoying the way Jonathan’s eyes darted to his mouth and back again. 

 

“Actually Jonathan, although I have come to talk about our Clark, it wasn’t his relationship to Lex that I was strictly concerned about.” He narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge Jonathan’s reaction. Jonathan looked warily back at him. “I’ve noticed some _irregularities_ to do with your boy Jon.” Jonathan flinched noticeably “Things that no-one around here can seem to explain.” 

 

Jonathan’s eyes widened with anger and fear. He took a step towards Lionel “You don’t know anything about my son.”

 

“I know that he’s not really your son. Is he? Where exactly did you find him again? A field? Hardly an ordinary birthplace for a child.” 

 

Lionel stood as Jonathan took another menacing step towards him, putting them face to face. 

 

“Clark _is_ my son, it doesn’t matter how he came into my family. Just because you had something to do with his adoption, it doesn’t give you any right to barge in here making accusations.” 

 

Jonathan turned his head to look at the field outside. It was about the third time Lionel had noticed him doing so and he had yet to figure out why. The only thing he could recall being out there was a chicken coop and an old storm cellar. 

 

“I don’t care what you think you know about Clark, you’ve no right to interfere with my family.” Jonathan was breathing hard now and once again his eyes darted out into the field. His voice lowered dangerously, “I want you off my property. Now.”

 

Lionel considered pushing him further but he felt that Jonathan had already given away his hand. His defence of Clark’s normalcy was altogether too fervent to be genuine. And there was the glances to the far field as well, another avenue of investigation that might bear fruit. 

He just couldn’t resist another jab as he was leaving, especially when Jonathan was looking so angry and therefore, to Lionel, so sexy. 

 

“If that’s how you feel Jon, I guess I have no choice but to do as you wish.” The sarcasm was palpable. “But I do think i’ll go say hello to Martha before I leave, its been some time since we’ve _been_ together.” 

He made to step towards the door but Jonathan’s hand on his shoulder stopped him heavily in his tracks. Lionel’s smarmy grin vanished in an instant as an electric shock sparked through the both of them. Jonathan’s face was twisted in confusion as he stared at Lionel.  

The artefact had caused Lionel’s right leg to numb, so insistent were its vibrations. It was going mad at the moment, sending out heat and pleasure to every part of his body. 

 It took longer for Jonathan to react than it had for the others, particularly Clark. Clark’s reaction had seemed impossibly fast, another fact Lionel filed away for future investigation. Lionel’s only hypothesis for this situation was that Jonathan had spent more time fighting his attraction to Lionel than the others had. It was both an interesting development in his experimentation and a scintillating thought; that Jonathan could find him as sinfully attractive as he found Jonathan.  

Regardless of why his reaction was different, it did present a hitherto unavailable option. Maybe he’d get more answers out of Jonathan when he couldn’t think straight. He thought that Jonathan might just be a tad more pliable if he was overcome with desire for Lionel. He was wrong.  

“Alright Jon, how about we talk about Clark-” was as far as he got. He was cut off mid-sentence as Jonathan pressed a hand to Lionel’s throat and pushed him back down onto the chair behind him. He straddled Lionel’s legs and kissed him intensely, his tongue immediately dipping into Lionel’s mouth. Jonathan’s crotch was pressed against Lionel’s hardening cock, causing him to moan into Jonathan’s mouth. 

Lionel revelled in the rough stubble of Jonathan’s jaw, the wetness of his lips and the pressure of his big hand at Lionel’s throat. Lionel enjoyed being choked but he was usually too much of a control freak to indulge in it. Jonathan was the only person he’d ever let do it before, something about his earnestness told Lionel that he wouldn’t abuse the position. That, and the fact that he got off on goody two-shoes Jonathan being bad. 

Jonathan clearly remembered how Lionel liked it. 

Jonathan’s other hand was tangled in Lionel’s long, wavy brown hair. He yanked it hard enough to force Lionel’s head back and Lionel hissed at the pain, but was desperate for more of it. Jonathan kept a firm grip on Lionel’s hair, not letting him move his head at all, and began kissing down his neck and jaw. They were furious, hungry kisses and Lionel couldn’t get close enough to them. Jonathan’s hair smelt like woodsmoke and pine and it was intoxicating. 

 He eventually managed to clear his head enough to remember what he’d been trying do. He began to speak through laboured breaths “How does Clark-” but once again he was foiled by Jonathan. He tightened his grip on Lionel’s hair and growled “Shut up” against his throat. Lionel didn’t need much more persuading, his eyes rolled upwards as Jonathan pulled him backwards and all he could do was grind against him.  

Jonathan was hard now too, his cock straining against the worn denim. He rocked hard against Lionel, threatening to tip the chair over as he did so. All Lionel could do was clutch at the dusty flannel of Jonathan’s shirt and try not to cum straight away. 

Suddenly Jonathan’s hands left Lionel’s body and began to pull feverishly at the buttons of Lionel’s waistcoat. 

Lionel sat back and looked at Jonathan, enjoying himself immensely. The sight of Jonathan on his lap began to seem absurd, now that he could look at him properly. His chest and shoulders were so broad and there were wrinkles lining his handsome face. To have this rugged, grown man on sitting his lap just seemed so, juvenile, that he had to laugh. As Jonathan was yanking Lionel’s waistcoat over his arms, slow giggles were building up into a barking laugh that threatened to break into hysteria. 

Jonathan clamped a rough hand over Lionel’s mouth, looking worriedly in the direction of the farmhouse. Lionel understood why. At any moment Martha, or Clark, or one of their friendly neighbours could come walking into the barn and see Jonathan Kent in this illicit tryst. The thought of it did incredible things to Lionel.  

Jonathan swiftly undid Lionel’s shirt buttons and Lionel imagined Martha walking in and finding them there. He imagined the way her soft blue eyes would widen with surprise and the way her heart warming smile would slowly drop. But in his imagination there wasn’t just surprise in her eyes, there was lust as well, and jealousy and the possibility of her joining them. He imagined her soft naked body next to Jonathan’s hard muscles and the both of them entranced and utterly consumed by Lionel. 

So good-boy Jonathan was being bad _and_ they were threatened with discovery, this encounter was close to hitting every one of Lionel’s buttons. 

Jonathan was moving around so much that it had become unbearable to only feel him through the material of their trousers. He let go of Jonathan’s shirt to reach down for his belt, and Jonathan’s hands met him there. Lionel used the moment to lunge forward and plant a series of hungry kisses down Jonathan’s neck, grimacing slightly at the taste of dust and wood chips on his skin. 

His mouth was on Jonathan’s neck as he struggled with Jonathan’s belt. He managed to unbuckle it at the same time that Jonathan reached into Lionel’s boxers and pulled his cock free. When Lionel finally managed to do the same for Jonathan, it was Jonathan who used his big hand to hold their dicks together and stroke. Lionel moaned and his back arched up from his chair, pushing him closer to Jonathan, spurring Jonathan to kiss Lionel again. 

Lionel bared his teeth and nipped Jonathan’s bottom lip. Jonathan’s hand tightened and he hissed in pleasure, so Lionel nipped him again. Jonathan’s breathing was heavy and excited, he was almost falling onto Lionel in order to deepen their kiss, his tongue exploring Lionel’s mouth. Then, with panting intensity he drew away from Lionel and grabbed Lionel’s chin. Jonathan’s eyes were bright and intense, and when he lifted himself off the chair, his grip on Lionel’s chin forced Lionel to come with him.  

Once he was standing Jonathan let go of him and took a few steps back, standing and drinking Lionel in. Lionel’s trousers had pooled around his ankles and he was acutely aware of how ridiculous he looked. Jonathan remained mostly dressed and his own trousers still clung to his waist. He licked his lower lip and beckoned with one finger for Lionel to join him. 

Lionel took one small step forward but his dropped trousers wouldn’t let him walk in more than a shuffle. He cringed with embarrassment but as he walked his humiliating shuffle over to Jonathan the blood in his cock was pounding with excitement. 

Then Jonathan had his mouth at the base of Lionel’s throat, one hand on his cock and the other reaching around to Lionel’s ass. He spread his cheeks with two large fingers as he planted hot, wet kisses over Lionel’s neck and collarbone. Jonathan was so in charge that Lionel didn’t know what to do with himself. He grabbed at Jonathan’s waist and held on tightly. Jonathan slipped one finger into the opening of his ass and Lionel gasped at the contact. He inadvertently shifted away from the touch, which brought him closer to Jonathan’s body and suddenly he could think of nothing but how badly he wanted Jonathan’s dick. 

Lionel dropped roughly to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain as he hit the ground. It was worth the pain for Jonathan’s surprise when he immediately took Jonathan’s dick in his mouth. Jonathan recovered quickly and his hands immediately went to Lionel’s hair, pushing and grabbing at the brown curls. 

Lionel stroked Jonathan’s cock in a smooth rhythm while he sucked, rolling his wet tongue over the head. As he took half of Jonathan’s length in his mouth he briefly got an image of Clark on his knees doing the same to him. It was so wrong to do, to imagine Clark sucking his dick whilst he sucked Jonathan’s, that Lionel couldn’t help but laugh. He choked out a halting cackle with Jonathan’s cock still in his mouth and Jonathan groaned at the sensation, digging his hands into Lionel’s hair. Lionel’s own cock was throbbing with need at the memory of Clark’s soft lips around it. He released Jonathan, leaving behind an embarrassing amount of saliva from his open-mouthed laughing, Jonathan’s dick was wet with it.  

As he tried to curb his inappropriate laughter Jonathan reached down and caught Lionel’s hands, bringing them above his head to rest against Jonathan’s chest. This forced Lionel to sit straighter and refocused him. He stretched his mouth over Jonathan’s cock, revelling in the sounds Jonathan was making. He was grunting and moaning in a fantastically deep register and it sent shivers down Lionel’s spine. 

He tested the grip Jonathan had on his hands and he found himself held tight. The slight fear at being unable to move his wrists made him feel deliciously alive and a thrill ran through him. He bobbed his head on Jonathan’s dick, using his tongue to trace patterns on his skin. All he could see was the trail of hair leading out from the base of Jonathan’s cock and up to his belly button. The salty smell of sweat was in his nostrils. 

He dragged his tongue over the head of Jonathan’s cock and then pointed his tongue to dart at its very tip. Jonathan let out his loudest moan yet and it was accompanied by a full bodied shiver. So Lionel did it again, and then again, each time licking his way down Jonathan’s length and then back to roughly hit the sensitive tip. Each time Jonathan would shiver and Lionel would feel it in his mouth. 

He could feel that Jonathan was close, a good deal of pre-cum was leaking from the top of his penis and Jonathan couldn’t stop readjusting his grip on Lionel’s hair. The sharp pinpricks of pain that this caused him spurred Lionel on. He paused for a moment to breathe looking up at Jonathan’s face. Jonathan’s eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched. Lionel waited one moment longer before wetting his lips and taking the entirety of Jonathan’s cock into his mouth. It was by no means a small achievement and Lionel was pleased, and a little surprised, to see that his gag reflex was as controlled as it used to be. He stayed at the base of Jonathan’s cock for as long as he could, his nose pressed into Jonathan’s pubic hair. At last he spluttered and had to pull off, his breathing hard and ragged. 

He dragged his tongue over the inside of his sore mouth and could still taste Jonathan there. Jonathan finally released his arms and Lionel rocked back on his heels. Jonathan wrapped a hand around his cock and began to finish what Lionel had started, his pace urgent. Lionel stared up at Jonathan again and this time Jonathan was looking straight back at him. 

It struck him how much it would look like he was begging right now. Kneeling in front of Jonathan, panting and staring up at him with needy eyes. He was so subordinate in this position, something he never let himself be in any other situation. But Jonathan didn’t play mind games, didn’t buy into power plays, didn’t care who Lionel thought he was. Jonathan was the only person he’d ever let see him like this, and it was thrilling to finally be able to relax the tightly held control he had over himself. So when Jonathan loudly cried out, grabbed Lionel’s hair and came all over his face it felt far more like a victory than a defeat. 

Lionel licked the salty fluid off of his top lip and grinned at Jonathan. He could feel Jonathan’s cum clinging to his beard but as he stood up he didn’t bother to wipe it off. He liked that Jonathan could see it. Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. He roughly grabbed Lionel’s face, tilting it upwards, and kissed him hard, pulling him in so Lionel’s bare chest rested against Jonathan’s dirty t-shirt. 

His body was warm against Lionel’s, and for just a moment all Lionel could think about was Jonathan. It was as if the barn had faded away, as if there wasn’t the possibility of discovery at any moment, as if they hadn’t spent the last twenty years antagonising and actively trying to ruin each other. It was as if they had been transported back to their very first kiss in the tiny Smallville high locker room. 

Then the moment was gone. Lionel broke the kiss first, pulling away from Jonathan and looking down, unable to deal with this rush of emotion. When he looked back Jonathan was waiting for him, gaze soulful and earnest. His palm held Lionel’s cheek and he pulled him in for a much softer, much quicker, kiss.  

For the first time in a very long time Lionel was moved to regret. 

But the feeling soon disappeared when he saw Jonathan’s hardened brow and the lust in his eyes. Lionel was deposited straight back in the present, where he very much preferred to be. Jonathan ran his hand down Lionel’s back and Lionel was hyper-aware of his own body. He was once again aware of his aching cock and his need to be manhandled. Luckily for him, Jonathan was on the same wavelength. He spun Lionel around and pushed him to the table, where he bent Lionel down and ran his hands between Lionel’s thighs to widen his stance. Lionel shuddered when one of Jonathan’s hands brushed his cock and he tried to back against him, searching for more contact. Jonathan let him move backwards, even grabbing his hips to pull him back further before stopping him abruptly. 

He now had Lionel exactly where he wanted him and for the first time Lionel realised what Jonathan had done. Looking down, the circular saw was directly beneath him and the only things keeping him from the saw were his own hands, braced against the pitted wood of the table. His stance was so wide and his feet were planted so far back that he didn’t have the balance he needed to successfully avoid falling if he were to remove his hands and touch himself.  

Before Lionel could shift himself into a more stable position Jonathan’s hands were on him again and he knew that he wasn’t going to be allowed to move. He smiled a rueful smile at Jonathan’s forethought and he let himself feel the danger of the situation, knowing that it was for his benefit. He felt the familiar twinge of fear at the thought of not being able to move and it was even better knowing that it wasn’t just going to be restraints keeping him still, but his own self control. If Lionel was proud of anything, it was his self control, and he enjoyed being proud of himself. 

Jonathan was pressed against his back and one of his hands moved forward to Lionel’s cheek. He brushed his fingers over Lionel’s beard and then hooked them to push his middle and forefinger into Lionel’s mouth. Lionel turned his head to take Jonathan’s fingers easier, running his tongue over them, knowing that Jonathan wanted them as wet as possible. 

Jonathan retracted his hand and slowly pushed one of his newly wet fingers into Lionel’s ass, using his other hand to spread Lionel’s asscheeks. It had been a long time since Lionel had been fucked and he gasped at the pressure. He found he was slightly clenched and took a deep breath to relax himself. Jonathan slowly circled his finger inside Lionel’s ass. Lionel closed his eyes, his dick throbbing with impatience. Jonathan withdrew his one finger and slowly pushed back in with two. Lionel hissed as he was stretched but Jonathan continued to move his fingers back and forth without hesitation. 

Lionel’s cock was aching with anticipation. He longed to touch himself but the threat of the saw beneath him kept his hands where they were. Jonathan picked up his pace and Lionel began moving his hips slightly to match his rhythm, it was the only thing he could do. Jonathan’s fingers slipped over Lionel’s sensitive prostate and a shudder of pleasure racked through him. He pressed back, silently urging Jonathan to be faster and harder. But Jonathan did not cave to Lionel’s insistent urging and instead kept up his own pace.  

Jonathan’s pace was agonisingly slow and Lionel found himself wanting to rage and shout, and demand more. He didn’t manage to do anything of those things. All that came from him was a desperate whine, surprising him in its implicit weakness. 

Despite his inward complaints there was an excruciatingly good quality to the suspense. Lionel’s legs were beginning to get shaky with pleasure as Jonathan kept skimming over his prostate, and his arms weren’t much better. He was constantly fighting the need to touch himself and his arms were wobbling dangerously trying to keep up the cause. He could still feel Jonathan’s cum drying on his face. 

Just when Lionel was at his most vulnerable, shaking with need and imagining how good his cock would feel underneath his hand, Jonathan’s fingers abruptly left his ass. Lionel jerked forwards in surprise and found himself face to face with the silver glint of the metal blade. Jonathan’s hands were suddenly on his waist again, and pulling him back into slightly safer territory. His adrenaline was running high from this brush with danger and Lionel was breathing hard as he anticipated what was next. Jonathan’s erection pressed against his ass and this time he didn’t bother with the suspense, after his first easing stroke he slammed into Lionel. 

Lionel couldn’t stop himself from crying out at the sudden excess of sensation. He was suddenly thrown from an agonising lack of relief into instant over-stimulation. It was as if every time Lionel thought he wanted something, Jonathan did the opposite, or went too far, keeping Lionel in a constant state of un-resolved need. Jonathan had a firmly possessive grip on Lionel’s hip and one hand buried in Lionel’s hair, forcing his head back. At every rough thrust Jonathan made a hoarse grunting noise that Lionel couldn’t get enough of. Just from the sound of it, Lionel was picturing Jonathan behind him, his weathered face furious and his muscles tense underneath his dirty flannel. The noise was so fucking animalistic and manly, and he probably didn’t even he realise how tough he sounded.

He smelt manly too, Lionel could still smell Jonathan all over him, an intense woodsmoke musk that suggested he would be quite happy living in the woods for the rest of his life. Lionel wasn’t that kind of man. He knew there were many different types of masculinity, and of power. He’d been misjudged often enough, with his pretentious mannerisms and his immaculate manicure. Put Lionel in a corner and he would bite, hard, but drop him in the woods and he would immediately phone for his helicopter pilot to fly him the fuck out of there. Lionel knew all of this but still could not deny that there was something very special and intensely attractive about that raw kind of sweaty, outdoorsy, dominating kind of masculinity. 

Lionel bit down on his lip, so hard he imagined he might draw blood. The pain from his bite and the pleasure of Jonathan’s thrusts melted together in an exquisite combination. The throbbing in his stiff cock was so insistent he thought he might come at any moment. He’d certainly held off long enough, but it didn’t seem like Jonathan was close to finishing, and Lionel was far too competitive to come so much earlier than Jonathan.  

At least that was what he had thought before a distant voice came wafting into the barn from the direction of the house. 

 

“Jonaathaaan?” 

 

It was Martha. 

Jonathan didn’t stop, but Lionel could imagine the conflicted expression on his face. Martha’s voice once again conjured up images of her in the doorway, of her finding them sweaty and panting. He imagined the little ‘o’ of shock on her red lips and the rising colour in her cheeks. He pressed back hard into Jonathan as he thought about how they would look to her now. Her husband bending her former boss over the workbench, thrusting in and out of him. The pressure in his cock was mounting and, caught in his erotic fantasy, all it took was Jonathan’s hand wrapping around his cock to throw him over the edge. He let out a strangled moan and watched as he came all over the dirt floor of the barn. As he finished his shuddering climax he sagged dangerously close to the deadly saw beneath him. Jonathan’s grip around his waist kept him stable and he managed to brace himself once more.  

There was a rumbling in Jonathan’s chest as he continued to push into Lionel. His thrusts were becoming a bittersweet torture as he hit Lionel’s prostate over and over again. Then he felt Jonathan’s muscles clench, and his fingers dug into Lionel’s hips so hard it hurt, causing Lionel to moan loudly once again. His hips bucked once against Lionel’s and he came with a noise that Lionel would have sworn before the Devil himself was a stifled “ _Lionel_ -”. Breathing heavily, he withdrew carefully from Lionel’s ass and before long Lionel felt a course cloth on his backside and he closed his eyes as Jonathan rubbed him down. He moved in quick circles and cleaned up Lionel’s ass, legs and groin, moving slower when he came to Lionel’s tender cock.  

When Jonathan had finished, Lionel turned around to finally face him. He was unprepared for what he felt. Jonathan didn’t look like the impressionable boy Lionel had known so many years ago, but a hardened man armed only with his integrity. Lionel felt a flicker of guilt knowing that he was the one who had done the most to harden him.

Jonathan collected Lionel’s waistcoat from the ground and handed it back to him. Lionel had the sudden urge to cover himself and quickly pulled up his trousers. He shrugged his waistcoat on and began to do up the buttons on his shirt. He watched as Jonathan lent against a table with his eyes shut, face turned upwards like he was he silently calling to God. His face seemed to be less lined with worry that usual, and when Lionel went to collect his jacket from the chair Jonathan had straddled him in, he could almost imagine a rueful smile curled on his lips. 

Lionel paused there, still watching Jonathan, unsure of what to do now. He slowly walked back towards him, mouth open as if to say something, although he had no idea what he wanted to say. When he stood almost toe to toe with him, Jonathan opened his eyes. Lionel was slightly taken aback by the sadness he saw there, but for once, when he looked at him, he didn’t see the hatred that so often sat behind Jonathan’s eyes.

Jonathan let out a sad chuckle and raised his eyebrows in mock humour at their situation, but his attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. Lionel had the urge to kiss him, to sooth his worry, but he didn’t dare now, it felt wrong somehow. They just stood, looking at each other, unable to bring themselves to words, to anything. Lionel’s hair was falling in his eyes and found himself wishing, absurdly, that Jonathan would brush it behind his ear. It was such a simple wish, something so tender that it shocked Lionel far more than anything else he’d imagined, or done, that day. That kind of wishing was dangerous, it clouded the mind with emotion and destroyed men’s reason. 

At that moment they heard footsteps outside and Lionel stepped away from Jonathan. He faced the back of the barn and smoothed down the front of his suit, trying to regain his composure. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jonathan spring up from the table and begin to pace, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.  

When he heard Martha arrive at the doorway he steeled himself and turned. It was nothing like his fantasy. Her face was the picture of concern and although she looked beautiful in the sun, there was an awful harshness to the way she was looking at him. He knew that it was because of her concern for Jonathan but her distance hurt him nonetheless. Despite what any of the Kents might think, he really was fond of her and he really did relish their time together. Lionel threw her a brief smile, feeling the taut skin stretch over his prominent cheek bones, and knowing that it looked exceedingly fake.    

Martha looked from Lionel, to Jonathan, to Lionel again, saying nothing. Lionel could bear the silence no longer. 

 

“Well Jonathan, even though I am disappointed we couldn’t come to an agreement I’ve no doubt I shall be hearing from you sooner or later.” He hardly even knew what he was saying. It only occurred to him later that his words sounded too much like an invitation.  

He used the Kent’s continued silence as an excuse to brush out of the shed. He uttered a small “Martha” and nodded as he passed her. 

When he reached the car he looked back towards them. Jonathan was looking strangely at him and Martha was standing with her arm around Jonathan’s waist.  

 _I fucked your husband_  

The thought blithely entered his vindictive mind. He felt a smile back on his lips, a real one this time, and felt more like himself than he had for the last hour. That was something, to have infiltrated the Kent household and to now hold this secret about one of their own, that was definitely something. Lionel climbed into the backseat of the car and the driver immediately set off. 

 

He didn’t know exactly when he had lost the artefact, but as soon as he left the Kent farm he knew it was gone. He had a moment of panic and checked all of his pockets before he realised that the desire to keep it, and to study it, had alleviated and it didn’t seem so dire anymore. He hadn’t realised how much pressure it had been exerting over him until it was gone, and now he felt as if he could breathe again. 

After that, all he could think of in the car ride home was Jonathan’s expression when he left. When Lionel later recalled that memory, he would call that expression longing, and that would conjure up all sorts of opportunities. When he went over the entire incident in his mind, to pick apart the interactions and to examine any weaknesses he may have seen in the farm, he would call that longing, weakness. He would add it to his long-term goal of having Jonathan Kent fold and tell him everything. Lionel felt secure in these machinations. Secure enough to separate himself from them; to use his presence as just another factor in the game. Secure in a way he couldn’t feel with people anymore.  

But in the dead of night when he remembered that longing, he would also remember the way Jonathan’s hands felt on his body, in his hair. He would remember how Jonathan had smelt when he had buried his head in the crook of his neck, kissing him from throat to shoulder blade. He would remember how it felt to look up at Jonathan, with Jonathan’s cock in his mouth.  

 

None of the other artefact encounters made such an impression, but Lionel was well aware that this one was very different. He was also aware, although he hadn’t truly admitted it to himself yet, that his encounter with Jonathan had very little to do with the artefact in question. 

They weren’t pulled together by an almighty force. This had just been them, and on some level, they both knew it. It was them in a way that they’d almost been before, and would never be again. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
